


The Least Likely Couple In Amestris

by jalendavi_lady



Series: Winry And Roy series from fma_fic_contest [17]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon - First Anime, Community: fma_fic_contest, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalendavi_lady/pseuds/jalendavi_lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evening of Havoc and Hawkeye’s wedding, through the following morning. Garters, bouquets, hours of waltzing, total exhaustion, nightmares, the not-so-wonderful wonders of Equivalent Exchange, and the lightning speed of the automailer rumor mill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Least Likely Couple In Amestris

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Mismatched Pairs (open word count) prompt at [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fma_fic_contest/profile)[**fma_fic_contest**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fma_fic_contest/) . It placed third.

No one could have forseen the events that would unfold at Hawkeye and Havoc’s wedding.

Least of all the Best Man who had thought himself safe from one of the most recent Amestrian wedding traditions.

“Please?” one of the bridesmaids he didn’t recognize pleaded.

“No.” His voice was firm. “The bachelor who catches the garter is supposed to dance with the young lady who catches the bouquet.”

The intent look on her face made it very clear that that was the entire reason she was begging General Roy Mustang, retired Flame Alchemist and nearly a decade departed from his days stealing other soldiers’ girlfriends, to join in the clumping mass of people near the bride and groom.

“And I can’t dance anymore. Therefore, I would be committing a great injustice by depriving a young lady such as yourself a dance if I joined the rush and did catch it.”

“But...”

“And the groom agrees with me.” _After a large amount of behind-the-scenes arguing last night at the Bachelor Party. Including just how many reminders of how Maes wanted me married off?_

She pouted and walked over to the group of other women, so many of them wearing the light blue that Riza had selected so that the bridesmaids’ dresses wouldn’t clash with the sea of military blue - including her own formal uniform.

(Riza hadn’t for a moment considered wearing white. It had been well over a decade since she had been an innocent in _any_ sense of the word, and gaining retirement papers so that there would be no chain of command difficulties with the relationship had not reversed any of that.)

He watched as Riza spun around enough that most women would have lost track of direction, and then tossed the bouquet two-handed over her head.

And straight into Winry Rockbell’s face.

She’d been standing near the back, unenthusiastic. Roy had been fairly sure she’d only been there at all because she was the closest to Hawkeye of the bridesmaids and Gracia Hughes, as a widowed Matron of Honor, would never have been expected to join in.

Massive cheering.

He clapped as much as propriety required, and as little as he felt their friendship required. She hadn’t wanted to be there, as far as he knew, and given her luck in relationships recently... the stress of supposedly being next to wed was not something she would have wanted.

She’d probably be griping quietly to him at a corner table before the evening was over.

Elysia was jumping up and down on the sidelines, just young enough that Gracia hadn’t let her join in the bouquet rush. This time.

 _Another year, and you’ll be jumping in with the other bridesmaids whenever the next wedding is,_ he thought with a grim smile.

Jean made a great show of groping blindly around under Riza’s skirt.

Women’s military formalwear was _not_ designed for ease of garter removal.

By the ten minute mark, even Roy was calling out encouragement.

There was a massive cheer as the garter was finally removed and held high.

Jean was spun around, again enough that most men would have lost their sense of direction, and then he lobbed the flimsy piece of lace over his head.

Groomsmen and the other young men scrambled.

 **Plop.**

A massive burst of laughing.

And then Roy realized just what had gone **plop**.

A woman’s lacy garter was slowly soaking its way to the bottom of the glass of red wine beside his elbow.

 _DAMN IT, JEAN!_

He immediately looked over at Winry.

Her look of shock roughly matched his.

 _Damn it, there are people here who don’t **know**._ The Matron of Honor, grandfather of the bride, and flower girl being chief among that _very_ long list.

And the last thing any of them needed, least of all Jean and Riza, was a scandal at the wedding. There was no way to use the past as an objection.

Bum leg. The injuries from the battle with Bradley could get him out of this...

Except that the cheering crowd beginning to gather around him would clearly not take that as an excuse from at least _trying_ , especially given that waltzes were relatively shuffle-able, compared to the dances currently popular in Central.

That bridesmaid was pouting even _harder_ now.

Winry was working her way over through the crowd.

The band was still setting up, there was enough of a delay to figure something out if the others would just leave them alone for a moment, just a moment...

“Roy, I’ve got experience working with people with leg injuries,” she said in a low voice when she finally made it to him as everyone began moving away from the table. “A few modifications to the classical position, and I should be able to catch you and get you back to a chair if anything goes wrong.”

“Winry,” he complained.

“I’m fine with this if you’re fine with this,” she said frankly.

He thought quickly. Turning her down would be an insult in the eyes of those who didn’t **know** , and likely be seen as an insult to her experience with automail-related rehabilitation. It wouldn’t be the first time he knew of that the least likely people to ever dance together had gotten stuck holding the bouquet and garter.

And even though the tradition was that each would be the next to marry (which was as unlikely as Edward and Alphonse suddenly reappearing to crash the party, particularly given that Falman was rumored to have been price-checking The Ring recently), there was no implication of ‘to each other’ involved.

Besides, they _were_ good friends now. Very good friends. There would be embarrassment now, but they’d probably have a good chuckle about it before the month was out. Pinako would likely get a hoot out of it whenever she heard about it.

Fifteen years ago, it would have been a completely different situation.

(And fifteen years ago, Winry would have been in Elysia’s position: old enough to dance, not old enough to try for the bouquet.)

“And if my idea works,” she nearly whispered, “you may be all right dancing with nearly anyone once you get used to it.”

He raised his eyebrow.

“For slow steps with physical contact, anyway.”

He sighed. “But just the one dance.”

***

An hour later, Winry indulged in a knowing smile as the music switched to yet another waltz, a bit faster than the others had been.

“What?”

“’Just the one dance’, my left foot. You haven’t so much as glanced at the table since we stepped on the dance floor.”

“It’s been since the Revolution,” he reminded her. “And I hadn’t realized I’d be physically able to handle more than one dance.”

“It’s been six waltzes, Roy. Even Riza and Jean have already taken a break.” She laughed slightly, smiling.

It was good to see him so comfortable with his own body again. He’d been relying so much on the cane lately, and _only_ since the retirement papers had come through.

He needed this, even if the effect was temporary.

“Do you need a break?”

“Not yet.”

She must have spoken too quickly, because he leaned just a little closer in and said, “Any time you want to stop, just tell me. I’ll find an excuse.”

“No,” she replied. She shook her head, laughing again. “It’s been forever since I’ve danced like this with anyone who had half a clue what he was doing.”

“The men you were dating not the dancing type?” His voice was light, casual.

She hadn’t told anyone why those relationships had all ended, and she knew he was fishing for details.

 _Everyone_ had been fishing for details.

“No sense of rhythm, any of them. No sense of structure.” The continuous pattern of stepping and turning was oddly soothing. _She_ needed to do this more often. “They were great bar dancers, but give them anything predictable...”

She made a face, and she thought he nearly chuckled.

“And no sense of respect for a dance partner.”

“Hmm?”

He had been getting a little bolder in the force and length of the steps and she felt him back off.

“Swing dancing hurts when it’s just flinging ladies around the room. If I wanted to play Crack The Whip, I’d play Crack The Whip. You’d think someone from Rehabilitation would have known better...”

That did make him laugh.

The music stopped, and a minuet began.

Their eyes met.

There was no way she could catch him if he started to fall during a minuet, no matter what arm placement modifications they made. The positions were too open. “Let’s...”

“Let’s go sit down.” He sounded a little winded, but it was clearly in a good way.

She hadn’t seen him this cheerful since his last birthday party. He was practically humming as they walked back over to the table.

They sat down, and he stretched his leg out under the table with a grunt. “That actually felt good.”

“You probably won’t be saying that in the morning.”

“I’m used to Equivalent Exchange,” he reminded her.

 _Not like this, you’re not._

***

The next dance was another minuet, which Winry spent teaching Elysia the finer points of the dance form.

Roy thought they - and Gracia - had spent rather too much time laughing during the proceedings for the lesson to have been absorbed all that deeply, but oh! It was so good to see the Hughes family in such high spirits.

Then two more waltzes with Winry, after which he felt confident enough to dance with the bride (Jean ribbing him as the dance began and ended, and Riza sighing and rolling her eyes at the two of them) and Gracia. He sat through another minuet, and then he and Winry gave Elysia an intermediate waltzing lesson.

All too soon, the festivities were over. Jean and Riza were ushered out with general cheering, to the car that would take them to the train station for a week-long holiday at his mother’s (since practically none of his family had been able to take time off from the family business to come).

Gracia escorted Elysia home.

And he and Winry were faced with hours of the traditional Best Man and (not-exactly) Maid of Honor roles of delegating the clearing up of all the mess.

At some point she slipped off and changed into a shirt and pants, along with a more reasonable pair of shoes. Lucky for her, all the bridesmaids had changed while they were getting Riza ready, and therefore had not at all formal clothes on site. He was stuck in the long formal military coat that reached down below his knees.

Fairly early on, the remaining bridesmaids were only recognizable by their pinned-up and beflowered hair.

And then it was over, and they were all walking out into the night.

Winry walked with him the two blocks to his home, and of course he invited her in to sit for a moment on a chair with decent padding before she walked the other five blocks to her apartment building.

And then she fell asleep in the chair.

He knew she’d taken the next day off, knowing she was going to cover for the Matron of Honor afterwards. And he knew she’d willingly accepted him staying at her grandmother’s at the same time he was many times now.

And that many people knew they’d stayed at Pinako’s at the same time.

So he left her asleep, left a note on the table beside her, picked the cat up so Lucky wouldn’t decide to play with her, and walked off to his bedroom.

***

“MROAOW!”

Winry startled awake, unsure of where she was for a moment.

“MROAWOAOAW!”

Yes, this was Roy’s living room. Which was the last place she remembered being.

“MROWOWOWOWOW!”

And that sounded like...

Lucky ran in, tail high, and leapt up on the table beside Winry before yowling again. The gray cat jumped back down and looked up expectantly.

 _Something’s wrong with Roy._ “I’m coming, Lucky.”

She followed the cat through the house.

Roy was clearly in the middle of one hell of a nightmare.

“Roy.” She shook his shoulder. “Roy!”

He started, looking around in the dark wide-eyed.

“Roy, you were having a nightmare. Lucky came and got me. You left me sleeping in the chair, remember?”

He nodded, settling down but still breathing heavily. “Thank you. Lucky, good kitty.”

“Mrr.”

“She’s usually able to wake me on her own,” he explained as the cat jumped up beside him.

That chilled her a bit - the matter-of-factness, the sudden knowledge that Lucky was a service cat, not just a beloved pet... “Do you need anything?”

“A wet cloth would be good.”

She left and returned with one, sat beside him on top of the sheets, and started mopping at his forehead.

“Winry...”

“I’ll leave once you’re asleep again,” she told him.

“... All right.”

Lucky curled up on Winry’s lap and purred.

***

Something nudged Winry.

“What?” she asked, still more than half-asleep and blinking into the light streaming through the drapes.

“You fell asleep. Again.” Roy was propped up on one elbow, looking bemused and slightly annoyed. He was still mostly under the sheets, still wearing an undershirt that didn’t cover much of his shoulders, and was still not wearing the eyepatch.

She’d seen him in an undershirt before, crawling on his back into her grandmother’s fireplace, but she’d never seen him without the eyepatch after he’d lost the eye. The scarring wasn’t pretty, but she’d seen much worse.

She felt herself blush, and got up. “Sorry. I... I’ve just been trained not to leave _anyone_ alone like that.”

“I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve dealt with worse in the military hospital. Other people’s nightmares only scare me if they’re about to hurt themselves or others, and you weren’t anywhere close to that.”

Lucky stretched on the sheets between them, yawning as only felines can.

Roy started to sit up, and then stopped with a gasp, his face pale.

“Equivalent Exchange?”

He grimaced. “Equivalent Exchange.”

“Can I presume there’s a hot water bottle in the house?”

“They’re in a box in the cabinet over the sink in the bathroom.”

The phone rang as she left the room - most veterans with leg problems had bedroom extensions, paid for by VetCare because of the risk of a veteran being trapped in bed and unable to summon help otherwise, and Roy was no exception - and she couldn’t help but listen.

“Mustang speaking.” His voice was suddenly very falsely cheerful. “Good morning, Mrs. Rockbell. Yes, Jean and Riza’s wedding went well.”

There was a very quiet pause.

“No, nothing happened last night.”

Another pause.

“What do you mean, my neighbor two houses down is in charge of the automail department at Central General Hospital!?”

He owned ten hot water bottles. Winry blinked in surprise for a moment before grabbing two of them.

“No. Nothing happened. She fell asleep in a chair and she was so exhausted I couldn’t bear to wake her up. That’s all.”

She filled the bottles.

“She’s fine. The Matron of Honor has a teenage daughter and had to go home early, so Winry had to cover for it, and...”

She walked back towards the bedroom.

“All right, I’ll admit it. A lot of waltzing was involved... and your granddaughter just walked into the room, if you’d like her to confirm all this.”

He held out the phone. She handed him the water bottles and took the phone from him.

“Grandmother?”

“Is he right that nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened. Other than the waltzing and the falling asleep.”

She laughed. “The rumor mill isn’t going to like that.”

“Grandmother, the rumor mill doesn’t **know**.”

“His leg’s giving him hell, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, just know that if anything were to happen, he’s a decent man no matter what he may have done in the past, and I wouldn’t judge either of you.”

“Grandmother...”

They said their goodbyes and Winry heard the click on the other end of the line.

She hung the phone up.

Their eyes met.

“I swear, I didn’t know Grandmother was having match-maker urges again.”

He started laughing. “ _That’s_ what that was?”

She started laughing too - it was infectious. Within a minute, she had to sit down on the side of the bed because she couldn’t keep standing.

“She does realize we’re the absolutely least likely couple in all of Amestris?”

She couldn’t help but keep smiling, and skip telling him just how bad the men she’d gone out with recently had been.

 _At least he’d never treat me as just another potential notch on the bedpost._

Lucky was looking at them like they were both crazy.

They finally calmed down.

“I suppose I should go make breakfast, since there’s no way you’re getting anywhere near the kitchen soon.”

He nodded. "Thank you."

Lucky yowled, and they both chuckled. Winry picked Lucky up. “Okay, I’ll feed you first, Lucky.”

“Mrr.”


End file.
